Vignette
by northernexposure
Summary: Harry/Ruth vignette, in scene format and then in prose. Very short.


Author's note: OK, so I have been watching _Spooks_ from the beginning of season three now, and I think I'm beginning to understand how the writers' minds work. This has made me nervous, as I have a dread that they've brought Ruth back only to kill her off the moment she and Harry are happy (Nooo!). So I'm watching seasons 3-5 at a rate of knots in an attempt to see everything before they break my heart…

I also think that if we do get anything definitive to tell us that they're together, it'll be something as brief as this scene. To experiment, I've written it in screenplay form and then in prose to satisfy my shippy, fanficcy heart…

Grr. Can't get this to upload in proper screenplay format. Have finally given up. Hope it's clear as is.

* * *

INT: HARRY'S BEDROOM; NIGHT

The room is dark apart from the green glow from the alarm clock on the bedside table. The time reads 4:37. As we watch, it changes to 4:38.

_FX: A mobile phone rings. __HARRY's__ ringtone._

The phone vibrates beside the clock. A hand reaches over, flicks on the beside light.

Harry, frowning, half-asleep, picks up the phone.

HARRY

Yes? [beat] Ten minutes.

He replaces the phone, leaving the light on. He turns over to reveal RUTH, curled on her side, eyes open.

Harry moves to her, sliding one arm around her waist. She does not look at him.

HARRY

I'm sorry. I have to go.

Ruth nods, silently.

HARRY

Ruth? [beat] Don't regret me.

RUTH

[Turning on her back] [beat] I don't.

HARRY

[Nods] I'll see you later. [beat] I… [love you]

She sees the gap he has left, but does not fill it.

RUTH

I'll follow you in.

Harry gets up. Ruth returns to her curled position.

[END]

* * *

Prose

Harry opened his eyes as the sound of his phone cut through whatever dream had been skittering across his mind as he slept. The clock read 4:38, and he frowned, reaching to turn on the bedside lamp. A call at this hour could not possibly be good.

"Yes?" He said, curtly, into the phone, knowing nothing else was necessary. MI-5 was not known for its small talk. Harry listened for a moment, his heart sinking further. "Ten minutes," he said, before ringing off.

He put the phone down and turned over, and despite knowing what was there, his old heart jolted at the sight of Ruth, curled on her side at the edge of the bed. He hesitated, but knew she was awake – he could tell it in the brace of her shoulders, the slightly stiff curve of her arm. He wondered if she had been awake before the phone rang, and thought that she probably had. Thinking, weighing, analyzing. He wondered what was running through her mind, but knew intuitively the awkwardness contained in her pose.

He could just get up. He could start dressing. She'd know from his side of the brief conversation that he needed to leave. Maybe that's what she'd prefer him to do. But it was not what _he _wanted to do. This encounter had been truncated by the incessant call of duty, but he wanted her to know that if he had the choice, it would not have been. If he had the choice, the "encounter" would last and last, every day, for as long as they both lived. And whatever was going through _her_ head, he thought it important to tell her these things. Or at least, to hint at them.

Harry leaned over, running one hand across her stomach. She was wearing one of his shirts. She had needed it against the chill of a night spent unexpectedly in a home that was not her own, and it was too big for her. For a second, Harry felt his heart contract. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, to pull her as close as he could and keep her there, indefinitely.

Instead, he spoke into her ear.

"I'm sorry. I have to go."

She nodded, and her eloquent silence sent a potent pulse of worry through his abdomen. It was a sign of retreat, a sign of her rebuilding the interminable barriers that had prevented them getting this far years ago. A bleak, empty void shuddered open in his belly at the thought of her saying that this had been a mistake.

"Ruth?" He said, and then all he could think to say was, "Don't regret me."

He felt a tremble pass through her stomach beneath his hand, and she rolled on to her back, looking up at him. He could still see the guardedness in her eyes, but beside it was something else, something that almost made him smile.

"I don't," she said.

He nodded and said, "I'll see you later." But then he was overwhelmed by the moment, and began again with, "I…" but tailed off. He had intended to say, "love you", but the words didn't make it past his lips.

Ruth smiled. "I'll follow you in," she said.

Harry got up, watching her quiet, curled form as he dressed, and hoped to see it every time he had to rise at some ungodly hour in defence of the realm.

[END]


End file.
